The peach blossoms bloomed early that year.
On the outskirts of Yue City, where mist clung to the water's surface like longing to memory, a young man stood at the edge of the wooden bridge, white robes fluttering lightly in the spring breeze.
His name was Lin Xiyan.
For seven years, his name had disappeared from the records of the Jianghu. Those who remembered whispered of a prodigy who had once challenged the Seven Swords of Wuyue and lived. Others claimed he had died long ago, buried beneath snow and betrayal.
None of them were right.
Lin Xiyan was not dead. He had only been… waiting.
Waiting for the one who had broken his heart — Shen Liufeng.
The man who once called him shidi, little brother. The man who had held his hand under the falling plum blossoms and whispered promises beneath the moonlight. The man who, in the end, left him to die on the banks of Cold Ash River.
A single step forward. Lin Xiyan's boots echoed softly against the wood of the bridge. Behind him, the wind picked up — and with it came a sound.
Footsteps.
"I didn't think you would really come," Lin Xiyan said softly, without turning.
The other man chuckled. The sound was unchanged — smooth, rich, edged with arrogance. "And miss the ghost of Lin Xiyan returning to haunt me? That would be a shame."
Lin Xiyan turned slowly.
Shen Liufeng stood a dozen paces away, dressed in black, silver embroidery winding around his collar like creeping vines. His face was still as handsome as Lin Xiyan remembered — cruelly so.
But the eyes were different.
Haunted. Tired.
"Seven years," Lin Xiyan murmured. "Did you regret it, even once?"
Shen Liufeng didn't speak. The silence between them stretched long, filled only by the sound of petals falling onto still water.
Then, he said: "Every day."
The words were barely above a whisper. But Lin Xiyan heard them.
And it hurt more than he expected.
To be continue….